Harsh words to self, brought about by the frustrations of an unstoppable wondering.

Am I living my dream? It’s so far from present reality it’s depressing. This is my life. Now! Not 10 years from now with my awesome career and my fancy house and my fancier car. Right. Now. Life passes me by every day as I longingly wish for the prospects of the future. As if the future itself owes me something. All I have to do is make it there and everything will be OK. But you know what… nothing will be ever be OK. The world is literally dying at a truly horrifying rate and yet I learn and truly accept these confronting facts and return to my mundane life as if they are not relevant. Somehow I’m exempt from the plight of humanity? Well lucky me. What the fuck is wrong with people that we can know we are exterminating life at an unprecedented rate and yet not seek change as a whole?

All these goals that I have said that I have. All this wealth I had thought I wanted to accumulate for so long and for what? To have my soul destroyed by capitalistic greed? My values shifted by my materialistic cravings? The most emotionally detached, internally numb people I have met in my life have invariably also been the most financially concerned. Is this the person I wish to become? Is that what I am striving for? The fictional blessings of a future once portrayed internally as inevitable. Now questioned by my very consciousness. Is this who I am meant to be? With everything I’ve learnt and everything I have come to believe, is this the best I could hope for?

And if I choose to stay the course and finish what I’ve started what do I sacrifice in the present as I pursue these materialist bounties? How much of my life and joy from within do I rationally accept as collateral damage? And why? What is there to prove? And who the fuck am I worried about proving it to? Anyone can have a fucking career, carry out a pointless, service based occupation that if I didn’t do someone else surely and easily would. Where the fuck is the purpose in that? What actual good does it do anyone?

Your “job” does not and will not, ever, mean shit. You ignorant, complacent bastard. Stop fucking whining about first world inconveniences like shitty air-conditioning while you’re sitting imprisoned at a desk in a ridiculously claustrophobic, hay fever inducing filing cabinet, wearing an oppressive, dull coloured piece of cloth around your neck as if to signify that now you’ve made it and people should listen to what you have to say. Fuck this.

This isn’t a movie dickhead so stop acting like it is. Stop putting off what you know makes you happy for the prospect of attaining it in the future. Grow some fucking balls, make a decision that’s right for you and fucking stick to it.